


The Triumph of Symbol

by Lilydancer



Series: Cum-Addict!Arthur-verse [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilydancer/pseuds/Lilydancer





	The Triumph of Symbol

****  
Title: The Triumph of Symbol ****  
'Verse: Cum-addict!Arthur  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Spoilers** : Most of Season 1 and up to S2, ep 2.  
 **Warnings** : See summary.  
 **Wordcount** : 7,387  
 **Summary** : Written for the following prompt at [](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/profile)[**kinkme_merlin**](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/) : _Arthur/Merlin, Arthur is a cum-addict because he's been sucking cock since he was young. Merlin tries to satisfy his cravings. Bonus points for a scene involving Merlin jerking off into Arthur's dinner and Arthur eating it with his fork and spoon. Would really love it if this plot remained in canon instead of AU or modern day._ Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/5454.html?thread=2129742#t2129742).  
 **Author's Notes** : Thanks to those who commented on the kink meme and especially to [](http://users.livejournal.com/tarot_card_/profile)[**tarot_card_**](http://users.livejournal.com/tarot_card_/) for hoping I would de-anon. Thanks also to the OP for the prompt!

 

Merlin was warm and cosy; awake enough to savour the smooth warmth of Arthur’s shoulder under his cheek and the quietly possessive arm Arthur had wrapped around Merlin in sleep, but still sleepy enough to do little more than smile, press a light kiss to Arthur’s skin and snuggle closer with no intention of waking again anytime soon. When Arthur hummed lightly, the vibrations sent tingles across Merlin’s face and down his side where their skin touched. This was Merlin’s favourite way to wake up, with Arthur not quite awake next to him and both of them in silent agreement that there was no need to move just yet. Sunlight filtered hazily through the window when Merlin blinked his eyes open, only to disappear behind his lids as he closed them again. He could hear the sounds of the town and the castle starting to wake, occasional strains of chatter and birdsong wafting through the window and quiet footsteps pattering past Arthur’s door. He felt peaceful, heavy with sleep and light with a quiet contentment that suffused both his bones and his magic. This luxury – waking in Arthur’s arms, feeling free to snuggle against him – had been hard won. It had taken months for Arthur to really allow this kind of contact, and longer still for him to be comfortable with it. There had been a lot of awkward moments along the way (the first time they woke together this way, Arthur had been asleep until Merlin pressed their lips together, at which point Arthur woke rapidly enough to push Merlin away rather forcefully before he realised who it was. Which had in turn made Merlin more hesitant to wake up tangled with Arthur.) But he knew it was worth it. These moments were some of his most treasured (not that he’d admit it to Arthur because Arthur had quite enough reasons to call him a girl as it was).

 

He had almost drifted back into slumber when he realised that he could hear an extra set of breaths in the room, almost in time with Arthur’s but, Merlin thought, not quite, and as he listened he realised that it was always just slightly behind the rhythm of Arthur’s own breathing. He tried to breathe at counterpoint to Arthur – in as Arthur breathed out – just to make sure he wasn’t somehow mistaking his own breathing for someone else’s, but no, the pattern remained the same. Was Arthur awake? Did he hear it too? Merlin was pretty sure Arthur was still at least mostly asleep from the slow, deep breaths he was taking, but he was also pretty sure that Arthur would be able to feign sleep right down to the last detail if he needed to. He fidgeted slightly, rubbing his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur simply held him tighter.

 

That settled that then. If Arthur was awake and aware of the third presence in the room, he’d have kept his hold on Merlin loose, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Or at least… Merlin was going to have to hope that was the case. Maybe he’d have held tighter to stop Merlin fidgeting?

 

The breathing was steady behind Merlin. It couldn’t be a servant – for one thing, none of the servants would have been able to get through the locked door. For another, a servant would have been moving around, making other noise than just breathing.

 

Arthur had spent a lot of time trying to get Merlin to think more before throwing himself headlong into dangerous situations. Merlin thought he’d be proud that Merlin had not just jumped out of bed and spun to face whoever it was immediately. But he also could not see much of an alternative. He slid from Arthur’s arms as quickly as he could, just praying it wouldn’t wake him – Arthur was used to Merlin’s coming and going by now – and spun in the direction of the breathing.

 

Merlin found himself facing an ageing man – he’d guess not much older than his mother, but much the worse for wear. He was slender, and looked tired and fragile, hunched over as though he could not stand properly upright any more. His eyes, though, glinted with a vicious, angry grey; spoke of power, of confidence and control; sparked with magic when they met Merlin’s gaze.

 

He barely had time to throw up a shield against the spell that was hurled at the bed. It would have slipped just past him, right by his shoulder; he couldn’t tell if it had been meant for Arthur or just badly aimed. It didn’t matter much; any protection he conjured for himself when Arthur was around tended to expand to include Arthur without much conscious effort on Merlin’s part, and either way this sorcerer was clearly a threat.

 

Between blocking rapidly hurled spells and trying to get some of his own in, Merlin tried to ask who the sorcerer was, what he wanted, but the man did not even seem to hear him; just launched a ball of energy in Merlin’s general direction and set to work on another. Merlin wasn’t too sure how long he could keep the shield up for, not if he wanted to attack as well, but there was also no way Arthur could keep sleeping through the noise whenever the sorcerer dodged one of Merlin’s own spells and it went careening into the wall. He was surprisingly agile for someone who looked as though they should barely be able to walk.

 

“Arthur?” Merlin called. This was not how he’d wanted Arthur to find out about his magic but either Arthur woke now and helped or the sorcerer got his way so it would have to do. “Arthur you prat, wake up!”

 

“I’m awake.” There was a cold, steely note to the grain of Arthur’s voice, almost contained but Merlin heard it anyway. In the moment Merlin spared to be shocked by Arthur’s harsh fury, the shield wavered and a fireball singed Merlin’s shirt. He managed to get the shield back around Arthur in time for the sorcerer to hiss in frustration – the only sound he’d made besides breathing since Merlin woke.

 

Why wasn’t Arthur helping? He couldn’t be angry enough to let Merlin die could he? He couldn’t be angry enough to not realise that the sorcerer would surely go after him with Merlin out of the way? Fear bled through Merlin’s spine at the thought that maybe Arthur was that angry; maybe he wouldn’t be able to fix this; maybe Arthur wanted him to die at the sorcerer’s hand so he wouldn’t have to endure the embarrassment of executing his manservant for practicing magic under his very nose for so long. Merlin had stopped trying to respond, frozen as he tried to process the feeling and what was happening. He’d always assumed Arthur would be angry, but it had been a long time now since he’d truly thought that Arthur might wish him dead for his secret. The shield held around Arthur, more through instinct than any effort on Merlin’s part, but Merlin felt the blood trickling through his veins run thick and cold like mud, felt even his magic seep across his skin and harden, brittle as though if Arthur touched him it would splinter into icy shards and abandon him. He could not shield himself, could not retaliate; his magic refused to do more than keep Arthur safe, and Arthur wasn’t moving, had not moved from behind him, was not helping, did not seem to care that Merlin was taking hits now, that Merlin had stumbled back onto the bed under a fireball and hissed out a breath as a crackle of energy seared across his skin.

 

Could Merlin have been wrong? He had thought Arthur would at least want explanations, want to shout at him and sulk and ignore him and try to send him away. He had thought Arthur would spare his life. He did not know what to do with the thought that Arthur might not.

 

Merlin knew, as he threw his arm across his face to protect it from another spell – one that had not touched anyone yet, he didn’t know what it would do – that if he were to die for this, for his magic, he was already as good as dead for it; there was no choice to make. He had to keep Arthur safe. Arthur had to become king. Merlin took a deep breath, willing his mind to work. He had to take the sorcerer down.

 

Pain flared in his arm as the spell hit, distracting him and wrenching a yell from his lips. He pulled his arm from his face – what would pain matter when he was dead – but no more attacks came. Arthur stood next to the witch’s body (and when had he moved and how had Merlin not noticed?), which twitched slightly but was clearly all but dead, gutted by Arthur’s sword. Shaking, Merlin lifted his eyes to Arthur’s almost unwillingly, wishing there was something he could say or do to make this okay, but Arthur’s eyes were cold and empty, hard in a way Merlin had never seen them before. When Arthur growled at Merlin to get out, Merlin knew he had no option but to obey. He had no idea what the prince would do if pushed; had never had cause to fear Arthur this way before. He bowed his head briefly – Arthur half-snorted, half-growled at the sign of respect that he presumably found mocking – and left before Arthur could decide there and then to call for the guards and the King.

 

***

 

It took a full week for Arthur to even speak to Merlin again. Merlin had taken to leaving Arthur’s breakfast in his room before he woke, and Arthur’s orders reached him via various other servants but mostly the steward, who seemed every bit as irritated by having to pass them on as Merlin felt every time he received one from anyone other than the Prince himself. Arthur avoided his chambers as much as possible when his orders would force Merlin to be there, and had taken to eating with his father in the evenings rather than having Merlin serve him. Merlin spent the week doing his best to complete all his tasks as well as he could and failing miserably, partly because he had decided to do them without magic for once and partly because he was unable to concentrate or sleep properly. Everyone in the castle and most of the town knew that the Prince and his manservant were at odds with each other; many of the townsfolk were surprised the Prince had not simply hired a new manservant, for he’d never had any compunction about doing so before.

 

Merlin spent the week permanently on edge, jumping at the slightest provocation. He’d dropped Arthur’s armour at least 3 times more than usual, which everyone knew about because Arthur had passed the task of cleaning and caring for his armour onto Sir Gareth’s squire Tom, and expressly forbidden Merlin to have anything more to do with it than ferrying it between Tom and Arthur. Every time he dropped it Merlin had to cart it back to Tom to clean again, because Tom seemed to have a different way of doing things and even Merlin could tell the difference between his handiwork and Tom’s, so Arthur would surely notice before the armour was even close to his body. This had the effect that Sir Gareth was getting frustrated with Merlin as well, and the only thing that had stopped Merlin dropping Arthur’s armour even more times was Sir Gareth’s decision that Tom might as well put it away instead of Merlin and save them all some time. The other servants had even stopped asking Merlin to help with anything because he was nothing short of a liability, jumping at his own shadow; pale and tired and trembling if he had to be anywhere within the King’s general vicinity.

 

By the time Arthur summoned Merlin, Merlin was simultaneously relieved and terrified – at least the wait was over, because he didn’t think he could have taken it much longer without bursting into Arthur’s chambers and begging his forgiveness like a weepy maiden. But he’d been trying to push the thought of what Arthur might to do the back of his mind and now he was faced with the knowledge that after a week of not being able to speak to Arthur, of not being privy to Arthur’s thoughts, he really did not know what Arthur would do; except, he hoped, not send him to his death because then there would have been guards involved by now.

 

The result of this was that Merlin was standing outside Arthur’s chambers, trying to find excuses not to enter but at the same time knowing that he would because he really just wanted this over now. He knocked, for once, feeling that any little thing that might help Arthur see him in a better light would be a really good idea just now, and slipped inside. He leaned slightly against the door as he shut it, trembling and not sure how well he could support himself while he tried to keep his breathing under control. If Arthur was going to kill him, they wouldn’t be alone in his chambers, so Merlin just had to remember that and maybe they might even get through this.

 

“Lock the door.” Arthur had been staring out of the window but turned as the door clicked shut. He strode over to the fireplace; Merlin noticed that the fire was burning a little low.

 

Long, heavy moments stretched between them. Merlin was reminded of the night they’d begun exploring the sexual side of the relationship; of the thick tension hanging between them, a wall separating one from the other that Arthur had allowed to be pulled down. It gave Merlin hope, for tonight the atmosphere did not feel as isolating and Arthur did not seem so unreachable as if surrounded by stone, although Merlin knew he still had a lot of work to do if he was to have any chance of getting through to the prince. Arthur’s back was stiff, his shoulders taught; his entire posture a muted cry of distrust and suspicion.

 

The fire crackled. Merlin’s breathing sounded loud and panicky to his own ears, erratic but shallow; rapid. Arthur’s breath was quieter, more controlled. Merlin shifted, and the sound of his boot scuffing the floor rent through the air like the rumble of the dragon’s roar.

 

“You betrayed me.” Arthur’s voice was cold, ringing with deliberate detachment. “You have betrayed Camelot.”

 

Merlin realised he should have seen that coming, should have known Arthur would feel that way.

 

“I saved your life. I have done it before and I would do it again.”

 

Arthur’s jaw clenched, but he nodded once.

 

“Morgana… Morgana knows what happened. She… said she dreamed of it.” Arthur paused, seeming unsure if he could continue or not.

 

Merlin did not know what to make of that, although it did make him realise the severity of the situation. For Morgana to See it… He had to make this right.

 

“She seemed to think that you are not a danger to Camelot. She argued that magic is a weapon like any other, that it can be used ill or for good reasons.” Arthur sat at the table and gestured for Merlin to sit opposite him. Merlin sat tentatively, uncertain what was going on, or what Arthur wanted, or where he was going with this. He could hear the coldness in Arthur’s voice, a coldness that hinted at buried anger and hurt, but he could also see a little bit of the king Arthur would become. He wondered how much Arthur had raged at Morgana before stopping to think on her words. He would have to thank her later. If he got the chance.

 

“You have betrayed me, Merlin. I cannot trust you, and I will treat your words with the caution due to any interrogation of a sorcerer. But I will hear how you have used your magic, I will hear your reasons for studying it, and I will hear your reasons for practicing magic in Camelot. You saved my life, and I will spare yours unless I am given reason not to.”

 

Merlin could only stare at Arthur in shock. He knew Arthur well enough to know that tone in his voice, trying to hide affection and fear behind regal words and gestures. He could practically hear Arthur begging him to make his decision to let Merlin live the right one; could almost hear the force of Arthur’s feelings for Merlin decide that no reason would be good enough for Merlin to die. Arthur might not _want_ to trust Merlin, but Merlin thought he did all the same.

 

“I was born with magic.” Merlin was surprised to hear the tremble in his voice; to hear the little current of fear he felt being expressed as he spoke, to hear his admiration and gratefulness come through in his tone. Arthur showed no sign of hearing it too, but Merlin did not expect him to. He was not explaining this to his friend, his lover; he was explaining this to his ruler, his Prince. There would be time for Arthur to express his emotions later, when Merlin would drag them out of Arthur if he had to, when Arthur had been reassured that Merlin was still the Merlin he knew.

 

“I’ve never had to study it. I have studied, so that I can control it better. So that I am more likely to be able to keep you safe. That’s why I’m here, in Camelot. My mother sent me but it’s why I stay. Because when you’re up against magic, sometimes you need magic on your side, too, to stand a chance. And I can’t take the risk of you dying.”

 

A glimmer of surprise slipped through Arthur’s mask. That was clearly not what he’d been expecting.

 

“I’m the best knight in the land, Merlin. I don’t need your protection.”

 

Merlin had to bite back the impulse to call Arthur an arrogant prat. He didn’t want to break their almost-truce and he didn’t think Arthur would take it too well just yet. Arthur’s raised eyebrow suggested he realised the direction of Merlin’s thoughts, but he still asked Merlin to continue. “Go on then, enlighten me. How have you used magic in Camelot?”

 

So Merlin told him. He got through their meeting in the market place as quickly as possible – Arthur looked like he couldn’t decide whether Merlin’s use of magic made him more like Arthur’s conceptions of what a sorcerer should be or just made Arthur’s difficulties in that fight less humiliating – and moved on to the other times he’d used magic. He mentioned that he’d spelled Arthur’s armour to be stronger, that he’d undo the spell if Arthur wanted. He told Arthur how he’d forced the snakes of Valiant’s shield to show themselves, how he’d saved the king from Edwin (Arthur looked torn between relief that Merlin had saved his father’s life and shock that Merlin would have the audacity to use magic on the _King_ , and Merlin was glad that Arthur was relaxing enough to let emotion show through). He had to stop halfway through explaining about the Questing Beast, both to find time to tell the truth without incriminating Gaius and to get his emotions in check because he hadn’t spoken to anyone, really, about those few long days in which he’d nearly lost Arthur and his mother and Gaius and his own life and then killed with a power he hadn’t known he possessed. He lost his composure at that part, rambling about how maybe he was just like Arthur thought, maybe he was like the King proclaimed all sorcerers to be, because he’d taken a life just like that, not knowing it would make things better, not knowing it would save Gaius, only seeking vengeance; Arthur had cut him off by saying that Merlin had done no more than Arthur himself would have done to any man or woman who had caused such misery and threatened and taken so many lives. Merlin had stared at Arthur and struggled to hold back tears. Slowly, he realised that the thing he was most ashamed of that he had done with his magic was the very thing that seemed to have really convinced Arthur that Morgana had been right in saying that magic was a weapon to be used like any other and not necessarily evil in its own right; because for all that Arthur looked shocked and faintly horrified (and Merlin didn’t want to think too much on that), he seemed to relate, to know where Merlin was coming from and had acted from.

 

By the time Merlin was finished (he left out the incident at the jousting tournament that time; Arthur had been upset enough by his knights effectively cheating on his behalf, Merlin saw no reason to wound his pride again. Arthur had deserved that victory, even if there were only a small number of people who would ever know about it), Arthur had withdrawn behind his princely persona again. He thanked Merlin for his honesty, and would reinstate him to full duties – Sir Gareth would be grateful, too. He could not trust Merlin, who had hidden so much of himself for so long, but he believed that Merlin had acted with the best of intentions. Merlin would understand that they could no longer spend time together socially. (Merlin was angered by that, Arthur had no right to presume that Merlin would understand and accept it; except that Merlin did understand, knew that Arthur was far from accepting of his magic, knew that as Prince, Arthur could see that punishing Merlin would be unjust, but that as Arthur, he was deeply hurt by his lover’s secret). Arthur also requested that Merlin stop using magic to complete his chores, granting him a week to get used to doing them manually before he would expect them to meet the same standard as they had before. Merlin nearly objected to that too – a week was not long enough at all, and some of his chores would never reach the same standard without magic, things like keeping Arthur’s bath water steaming hot – but he knew that most masters would not have granted even a week, knew that he had tested Arthur too much recently and that he was lucky to be granted what he was, even if it didn’t feel that way to him.

 

***

 

Merlin scrambled and muddled his way through two weeks of awkwardness before seeking out Morgana’s advice, as the only other person who knew what was going on. Arthur frequently swung between patience with Merlin’s genuinely terrible attempts at some of his tasks and irritated snapping as Merlin’s failures reminded him of Merlin’s secret, reminded him of being forced to choose between his lover and his father, between what was right and what was law, between his head and his heart. Merlin was inordinately glad to know that these were Arthur’s thoughts, not because he got any pleasure from them (mostly they filled him with a sickly guilt) but because Arthur had slowly started to share them with him again, and that was definite progress.

 

Morgana had told him some useful things, although she had warned him that Arthur had not spoken to her and so her words came from growing up with him, not from knowing his feelings now. She said that she thought Arthur might feel discomforted to realise that Merlin was more powerful than he, might worry that while Merlin acted for Arthur now, one day Arthur might not be good enough to keep Merlin on his side – especially given the events following the discovery of Sigan’s tomb. At the moment, after all, Arthur could feel he had some control over how Merlin used his magic, but Arthur must know that was only because Merlin allowed him that control. Arthur was used to being the powerful, strong one. And his pride must have taken a hit, too, to discover he had not gotten them out of as many scrapes as he’d thought. And Morgana supposed it must be rather terrifying to know you were only alive because of someone else, although Merlin thought that was silly because after all he could say the same. They were both of them only alive thanks to the other.

 

But it was Morgana’s words that had brought him to this moment, because he had to admit that they fit with what he knew of Arthur, and Morgana could be very insightful at times. He wanted something to demonstrate that he still belonged to Arthur, in body and soul (well, actually, that last bit Morgana had suggested. Merlin was torn between thinking it too girly and sentimental and wondering if it might be just what they needed). He planned to give Arthur two things to show him this, and to entrust Arthur with these things was as much as he could do, after revealing his magic, to show Arthur how grateful he was for his life but also that Arthur was trusted with all of Merlin, with everything that he was and could be.

 

Merlin already had the first thing. It had taken two almost sleepless nights to find a spell that would do what he wanted, and another to make sure he would be able to control it. Merlin had been scared to do the spell – losing control could have meant losing his magic as well – but he wanted Arthur to have this, thought that perhaps Arthur needed it. It seemed fitting that he would risk his magic for Arthur. He’d been shaking as he twisted his mouth around the words, heart pounding so hard he was surprised he could hear his own voice whisper over the drumming.

 

The spell had been more painful than he’d expected, and Merlin was glad that he’d done it in the evening and had the whole night to recover because every movement had felt like needles pricking at his flesh, his every muscle had ached and his balance had been completely skewed for hours afterwards. But he had done it successfully, and siphoned off a small part of his magic, which glittered and glistened and swirled gold in a vial hidden under the floorboard with his book. He could feel the separated portion of his magic calling out to him, almost begging to be taken back, and he ached to give in but he needed to do this for Arthur. He needed Arthur to know that Merlin was _his_ , completely and undeniably, and if this was what it took then it was worth it.

 

Getting the second part of his gift for Arthur would be much more pleasurable. Merlin had noticed long ago that Arthur seemed almost obsessive about cum; there were very few occasions when they were alone together and not required to do work that did not involve, at some point, Arthur sucking Merlin’s cock as though it was the most delicious treat he could have been given and licking up every last drop of Merlin’s cum. When Arthur had come outside of Merlin’s ass, he would lick that up too, which got Merlin’s attention more than Arthur’s liking for Merlin’s cum, because Merlin didn’t think many people would want their _own_ cum that way (although admittedly, Merlin didn’t really have all that many people to compare to. In fact, there were only two people whose sexual desires he was really qualified to comment on – his and Arthur’s). There were days when Arthur would pull out of Merlin having come, tighten his fist around Merlin’s cock to stop him coming until Arthur was ready, and press his tongue to Merlin’s hole, presumably seeking out even what cum he could find there, and by the time his moved away Merlin was inevitably squirming under him, trembling with need and completely incapable of preventing the moans and whimpers and gasps that Arthur wrought from his lips as he explored Merlin’s hole with his hot, probing tongue. Arthur would always insist on taking a moment to rinse his mouth out here (Merlin couldn’t really understand it, if he was honest, but used the time to try to get his magic under more control and until recently had all but prayed that Arthur wouldn’t decide not to rinse his mouth out after all because Merlin was confident that if he didn’t, he’d learn of Merlin’s magic as Merlin came down his throat and melted into a feeble heap under him).

 

Merlin knew Arthur’s day had been spectacularly awful when that happened. Of course there were other signs, in Arthur’s general posture and words and the way he moved, but while they told Merlin that Arthur’s day had not gone well, only when he was shaking with Arthur’s mouth at his arse and Arthur’s fist round his cock did he really know that the day had been so bad that Arthur didn’t know how to contain himself or what to do about it.

 

Merlin had asked Arthur about it once. More commented on it actually, noticed aloud that Arthur seemed to have a bit of a fetish for cum. Arthur had frozen next to Merlin in the bed; even the soft mattress and thick pillows had seemed to stiffen with him. Arthur had gruffly ordered Merlin never to bring it up again and sent him to sleep in his own room for the first time since he’d really become comfortable with Merlin sleeping with him. Merlin knew it had taken him the better part of a day of training his knights ruthlessly and then a night spent with his fist around Merlin’s cock before Arthur had been able to relax after Merlin’s question. That was enough for him to not want to bring it up again unless he had to.

 

But what mattered here was that Arthur seemed particularly keen on cum. And cum was one thing Merlin could give him, one part of Merlin which Arthur could have that nobody else did. And it was a part that Arthur relished, and was currently going without. Merlin knew Arthur wasn’t exactly about to have sex with him, but of the two gifts, he felt that as long as he made it clear he wasn’t teasing Arthur or asking for answers, the cum was the most likely to be accepted. He was a bit worried Arthur would be horrified at the idea of keeping magic in his chambers but he was trying not to worry about that just yet.

 

It was unnerving to sit down to masturbate for someone else who wasn’t even in the room. It was especially unnerving knowing you were going to bottle your own cum afterwards. That thought lent a thrill to the idea, a thrumming in Merlin’s veins that liked this precisely because it seemed far less innocent and normal than his usual efforts.

 

Merlin had been debating how best to collect his cum. Perhaps he could just scrape some off his chest, where he usually had to clean it off anyway? Perhaps he should try to cum into a bowl or bottle and collect it from there? In the end, he decided simple was best and settled on his back. He lay staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, listening for the snores that would tell him Gaius was asleep. He felt a bit awkward just lying there completely naked – he didn’t usually bother stripping to touch himself, but somehow it felt right that if he was doing this for Arthur, he shouldn’t be wearing anything. Merlin felt vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to; he couldn’t even pretend to be doing something else if Gaius or anyone else came in. Admittedly the chances of that were not high, but Merlin found himself locking the door with magic, just in case.

 

Knowing that he would be giving the result of this time to Arthur already had him half-hard, and picturing Arthur in his head it took embarrassingly few touches to palm himself to hardness. He stroked gently, slowly, teasingly, remembering the way Arthur looked at his cock as though it was something precious to be savoured. Merlin had learned this from Arthur; this rhythm and pressure that would never quite be enough, that made it possible to stretch everything out that little bit longer.

 

As Merlin felt pre-cum begin to bead at the tip of his cock, he swiped a thumb over it, biting back a gasp at the thrum the sensation sparked. Arthur liked to do this, liked to thumb the head of Merlin’s cock when he wasn’t expecting it at suckle at his thumb afterwards. Merlin had known it felt good for years, but the added picture of Arthur in his head made it feel _more_ somehow; left him feeling exposed as though Arthur’s piercing eyes had really met his.

 

As more pre-cum dripped from his prick, and he was able to use it as lubrication, he tugged a little faster, with a little more intensity in his grip and his movements. Arthur would never give this soon, liked to tease until Merlin lost control under him, but Merlin needed this to be quiet. He already felt deliciously decadent in taking the relative risk of doing this naked and for Arthur. Arthur liked a bit more risk (and Merlin was all for it with Arthur, because he trusted Arthur not to actually put them in situations he would be uncomfortable with) but Merlin’s nerves had been scraped raw over the past month so safety was something he craved.

 

He twisted slightly, thrusting up into his own hand. He closed his eyes and imagined Arthur’s hands on him, Arthur above him and around him. He massaged his balls with his other hand, biting his lip against the groan that threatened to escape, and tugged faster on his cock. Merlin could feel the flush of his cheeks and hear his ragged breathing, and still his eyes were closed. He imagined it was Arthur’s cock in his hand and a coil of heat whipped through him at the same time as the thought hit: could he use magic to feel what Arthur felt? Could he maybe actually bring Arthur off and feel it himself too?

 

Merlin wanted that. Wanted it a lot. He’d have to look it up in the morning.

 

Knowing he was near to coming, Merlin run his thumb over the tip of his cock again – that never failed to send spikes of liquid lightning through his veins – and began twisting his hand slightly on every upstroke until his rhythm faltered. He was panting loudly when he came, a stream of creamy liquid coating his abdomen and chest. Still breathing heavily, he fumbled for the vial he’d left by the bed and scooped what he could into it. He cast a spell for warmth on the vial – congealed cum was probably not sexy, even to Arthur – and rubbed the remainder off his body with the sheets before realising that he wasn’t using the old neckerchief he usually used.

 

Setting the vial on the table, he dragged the sheets lazily over his body and fell asleep within moments.

 

***

 

Merlin really had not thought this through. Arthur would find the gifts weird, surely – heck, even Merlin knew they were unorthodox, to say the least. Arthur would know that Merlin had gone to Morgana; they were too girly, only a girl would have come up with something so soppy and sentimental.

 

Except that the contents of the vials had actually been Merlin’s idea so Arthur had better not think they were too girly.

 

What if Arthur didn’t want them? What if Merlin had betrayed his trust so badly that Arthur actually didn’t _want_ Merlin’s cum anymore? What if he thought one or both of the gifts was a spell? What if he was repulsed by them? What if he laughed at them? What if Merlin had completely misread the situation and exaggerated Arthur’s behaviours and the way he seemed desperate for cum?

 

Merlin had been doing his tasks all day with the vials tucked into his waistband. He kept having to find a place to redo the laces of his breeches when they started to slip. It would have been sensible to just give them to Arthur once he had his list of tasks for the day and make a run for it. He’d spent the whole day doing his work even more poorly than usual as he decided to give the vials to Arthur and then decided not to but wanted to know, now that he’d made the effort, what Arthur would make of them, so maybe he should give them to Arthur, except maybe he shouldn’t.

 

With a sigh, Merlin headed back to Arthur’s chambers. If he didn’t give these damned vials to Arthur, he’d only spend the night and probably most of the next day worrying and still not decide. If Arthur found it odd… well at least he couldn’t execute Merlin just for being odd, that would be seen as fickle when he’d put up with Merlin for so long already.

 

He didn’t bother knocking – Arthur actually seemed to get a bit nervous if he did, when it had taken him so long to learn to in the first place – but by the time he’d stepped 3 paces into the room, he knew Arthur had sensed his awkwardness. Arthur’s eyes met his and Merlin thought he caught a glimpse of something like concern in them but it was gone too quickly to be sure. Taking a deep breath, he figured he might as well just go for it and get it over with. No point beating around the bush.

 

“I miss you. And I know hiding my magic hurt you, and I’m sorry for that-“ and Merlin hoped he wasn’t being too soppy or emotional but didn’t quite know how not to be “-but I want you to know that I’m still me, still Merlin, just the same as I was before. I didn’t want to hide it from you.” And he should probably stop there because he could tell he was about to start on a ramble to rival Gwen’s best. Removing the vials without his breeches falling down was awkward and got a raised eyebrow from Arthur, who mostly seemed bemused and unsure what to make of the situation but also seemed to be trying not to let Merlin see how he was feeling. Merlin noticed absently that his hand was shaking as he set the two vials on the table and Arthur came over from his seat in front of the fire to inspect them. He fought back a shudder when Arthur’s pupils dilated as he opened and sniffed at the vial containing his cum, and swallowed quickly.

 

“I… I know you like it. I like that you like it. I don’t need to know why.” Merlin felt suddenly shy, and knew his face must be flushed scarlet but he was here now, and Arthur knew what one of the vials contained and hadn’t thrown him out yet. He breathed a little easier at that.

 

Arthur nodded, searching Merlin’s eyes for a moment before dipping the very tip of his finger into the vial and sampling its contents. Merlin’s breath left him in a rush, the focus of his vision that single finger in Arthur’s mouth, which curled upwards slightly around the offering. Arthur put the stopper back in the bottle and turned his attention to the other one, lifting it off the table and holding it in the tips of his fingers. He did not open this one or attempt to do anything with it, but glanced curiously at Merlin for a moment before settling his gaze back on the little bottle that crackled with energy; fizzed with golden sparkles; shimmered with a whirl of liquid fire.

 

“It’s magic,” Merlin offered. “Part of my magic.” Arthur glanced up at him in surprise at that, ripping his eyes from the amber fluid.

 

After a moment in which he simply looked at Merlin, made no movement and gave no indication of his feelings, Arthur slid the vial of cum towards himself on the table, and placed the vial of magic back into Merlin’s hand. Merlin’s heart thudded dully in his chest; another rejection for his magic? When he was trying to hard to reassure Arthur that it was not a threat as well? He frowned and stepped back, nearly stumbling away from Arthur. He wanted to argue; wanted to shout that this was unfair, that Arthur had his own secrets to hide from Merlin; wanted to tell Arthur that he was a prat if he thought Merlin’s magic changed anything even as his knowledge of it changed everything. But somehow, he couldn’t. He’d always been able to argue with Arthur, except on the issue of magic it seemed. He’d always kept silent on that, or mostly silent at least. It looked like the trend was set to continue.

 

“I don’t want your magic, Merlin,” Arthur murmured, sounding a little more shocked and affectionate than Merlin thought he probably wanted to, and the undercurrent of affection confused Merlin. It must have shown on his face because Arthur continued.

 

“Thank you for it. But I cannot take it from you.” Arthur was doing that thing where he sounded regal again, and had turned from Merlin to walk back to the fireplace. When he faced Merlin again, it was clear that there was a lot running through his mind.

 

“Of course you can! You can take anything from me, I’m offering it to you!” Merlin did not want to accept rejection again.

 

Arthur had that speculative look in his eyes; Merlin knew it mostly from the times when Arthur suggested they try something new, but also from being put in the stocks and dragged out hunting, so he couldn’t say if what was coming would be good or bad. He chose to be hopeful, and waited.

 

“You have offered me your weapon, or part of it.” Arthur seemed to be thinking aloud here. Merlin’s heart thundered beneath his chest; Arthur had only seemed comfortable enough to speak his thoughts as he had them in the few weeks before Merlin’s magic had been exposed. It meant he trusted Merlin, and if Merlin had to settle for that… he wouldn’t like it, and he probably wouldn’t accept it for long, but it would do for now.

 

“Like the knights offer me their swords – just one part of their arsenal, like that vial – when they pledge their allegiance to me, and later to the King.”

 

Merlin just stared at Arthur uncomprehendingly. Then his words started to sink in and a feeling of incredulity rose in his chest.

 

“You’ve had my loyalty since Valiant, you prat!”

 

“The knights keep their swords. You should keep your magic.”

 

Oh.

 

Merlin could barely stop himself from scrambling to yank the stopper out of the bottle and allow his magic to reattach itself as it had been yearning to do ever since he’d siphoned it off. It didn’t hurt anywhere near as much, though he still felt dizzy afterwards.

 

It would be a while before Arthur was comfortable with Merlin’s magic, but it had also been a while before Arthur had been comfortable falling asleep with Merlin in his arms, and that had been well worth the wait. Watching as Arthur unstoppered the vial he still held and tasted more of Merlin’s cum, Merlin knew that in time things would be okay. In the meantime, the greedy look in Arthur’s eyes suggested some spectacular sex in the near future and Merlin found himself every bit as desperate to feel Arthur again as Arthur seemed to be for another taste of Merlin.

 

Merlin secretly hoped that although Arthur’s day had hopefully been pretty good, he’d make this last as long as he possibly could to get the most cum he could, whether his own dripping from Merlin’s ass or Merlin’s as he came down Arthur’s throat.


End file.
